


Sick Puppy

by MakoVomit (Necrophagist)



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Burping, D/s relationship, Daddy dom!Angeal, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Sickfic, Stomach Ache, puppy boy!Zack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:50:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4510224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Necrophagist/pseuds/MakoVomit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angeal can't stand to see his baby boy suffer.<br/>Takes place in a semi-nonsensical AU based on my roleplays with Arcadiae. Kinky stuff of the unusual sort, so don't read if it's not your thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Puppy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few years ago and promptly dumped it into my finished works folder and forgot about it, so it's not really representative of my current work.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy, or its characters, plot, or content. I write about it merely for fun and gain no profit whatsoever from doing so.

I knew something wasn’t right the minute I went to wake him up. The fact that I had to wake him up at all was actually my first indication, since he’s usually up and wolfing down his breakfast by seven-fifteen, and it was now a quarter ‘til eight.

I tapped gently on the bedroom door, and upon receiving no response, pushed the door open and went inside, going over to the king-sized bed and leaning over it. I could see a few tufts of Zack's messy black hair peeking out from underneath the cocoon of blankets, but that was all.

“Zack? Time to get up, kiddo.” I placed my hand on what I assumed was his shoulder, giving his lithe, firm body a gentle shake. He groaned deep in his throat and rolled away from my touch, tucking the top of his head under the blankets and laying on his stomach.

I frowned and sat on the edge of the bed, giving him a little prod in the center of his back. “Zack, seriously, we’ve gotta’ start training in twenty minutes. Are you okay? You never slept this late in your life.”

“I don’t feel good.” His voice quavered a little and it sounded forced, like it was more than he was worth to work up the strength to talk. Now he had me really worried. Despite his whining protests, I pulled the blankets away from his face and torso, placing my hands on his arms instinctively when he shivered and cringed. I never failed to marvel at the way his biceps, large as they were, fit snugly in each of my palms like they were designed to be complimentary pieces of a puzzle.

“What hurts?” I asked, my tone softening. This wasn’t the time for orders. Hell, some days I had a hard enough time ordering him around even when my life depended on it.

“My stomach,” he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut and his lips curling into a small grimace of pain as he spoke. “It’s really killing me, Angeal. I can’t train today.”

“Let me see,” I said, my voice softening into tenderness as I tugged the covers back even further from his stiff, hesitant form, sliding my hand under the fabric of his pajama shirt and resting it on his belly, just below the dip of his navel. The skin was too warm, and stretched tight over a bulge that was uncharacteristic of Zack’s sleek, cut form. I pressed my palm flat against it and felt something shift under my touch, drawing another groan from Zack’s lips.

“Stop it,” he said in a hushed tone, seeming almost shy to be giving me an order, even regarding such a tiny thing. I did as I was told and removed my hand, allowing my poor suffering trainee to sit up a few inches and lean himself back against the pillows. “You’re not gonna’ make me go out there today, are you?”

“Of course I’m not.” I turned to face him, positioning my entire body on the bed and folding my legs, my lap now wide-open, warm, inviting. Zack climbed into it without another word, nestling his head into the crook of my neck, his hair tickling the sensitive skin of my throat. I cradled his head against my shoulder and began rocking gently back and forth, as slowly as I could, afraid to upset him in his current condition.

He looked up at me, his eyebrows furrowed in distress, and a string in my heart knotted and released painfully when I saw that his big blue eyes were glazed with a film of tears. “Shit… it _hurts_ ,” he grunted, his fingers curling as he shifted and squirmed in my hold, his arms coming to rest around my neck, latching themselves immovably.

“Language, Zack.“ I placed a finger to his open mouth and he glanced away, the hint of a smile appearing on his lips; but as soon as it had come, it was gone, replaced with the same pained frown.

“Please,” he murmured, and kissed the tip of my finger where it rested on his fretting lower lip. “ _Please_ , Angeal…”

“Shush, baby,” I soothed, my voice a low, deep rumble in my throat. He was big and strong, twenty-one years old and far from a baby, but at that moment he just seemed so damn small and vulnerable. I suddenly felt the throb of my protective instinct and my arms tightened around Zack’s tense body, drawing him closer until he was curled in the fetal position in my lap. “It’s all gonna’ be okay, Puppy. It’s gonna’ be okay.”

He didn’t even smile at the pet name, which showed me just how sick he felt and how much he needed me. His head forced itself deeper into the crook of my neck until his nose was pressed against my skin hard enough so I could hear each unhappy, tentative breath. In the silence of the room, I could hear the sounds his stomach made as it wrestled with whatever was giving my boy so much trouble; gurgles and squeals and bubbling grumbles that sounded like they’d tear his poor insides apart.

“That’s my good boy,” I breathed into his ear, feeling him relax at the sound of my voice. “Always putting up a strong fight… I’m so proud of you, Zack. I love you. I’m so, so proud of you.”

After a while, the noises subsided and Zack became still in my arms; his distressed squirming stopped, leaving him limp and relaxed, and the urgency of his breaths faded into deep, regular exhalations. His arms slowly detached themselves from around my neck, then he sat back and looked at me, his face pasty and bathed in a layer of cold sweat. “Thanks,” he said tremblingly, wiping his brow on the back of his wrist; I couldn’t help but notice that his fingers were shaking the slightest bit.

“That’s what I’m here for,” I replied, cupping the back of his head in my palm and leaning in to press my lips to his clammy forehead. “You need anything, baby?”

He opened his mouth and started to say something, but a sudden rumble erupted from his stomach and drowned out the words he had attempted to form. This sound was different from the ones before; it didn’t sound angry or painful, but it was a hell of a lot louder. Zack clasped a hand over his lower chest and looked up at me with a mixed expression of surprise and embarrassment.

“I thought we’d gotten all that resolved,” I said in a playfully scolding tone, and the color suddenly rushed back into Zack’s cheeks, staining them pink. “You still feeling sick, Puppy?”

He lowered his head and nodded a little, and his arms once again locked around my neck. I nuzzled my face into his hair, kissing his head. “Let’s go get you some water and see if that helps.”

He gave another slight nod, and I cupped his muscular bottom in one hand and supported him like a child, climbing off the bed with a stifled grunt of effort as I struggled with the weight of my big strong boy in my arms.

The moment I stood up, Zack gave a colossal groan, behind which followed a horrible sloshing rumble from his stomach. Assuming he was about to vomit up his dinner all over both of us, I opened my mouth to ask him to _please_ try to hold it until we could get to the bathroom, but there was no need. Zack’s stomach contracted harshly enough for me to feel it against my chest, and he let out a thunderous belch, inches from my ear.

For a moment the room was left in deafening silence, and Zack once again grew tense, his fingers digging into my shoulder and his face heating up so fast that I could feel it against my neck. “Angeal-” he began, but I shook my head to stop him before he could continue.

“Shhh,” I hushed him, sitting back down on the bed again and lifting him up, positioning him so that he was straddling my thigh and facing toward me. “You think you can do that for me again?”

Zack’s cheeks continued to burn with color, but he nodded, and leaned forward to bury his face in my chest. I stopped him with a gentle hand that covered his entire shoulder, and he gave me a confused expression.

“I want you to look at me, baby,” I said gently, cupping his chin in my fingers and stroking his cheek in circles with my thumb. “I’m gonna’ make you feel better, but you have to be brave and look at me, all right?”

“All right,” he whispered, a barely audible murmur of a sound.

“What’s that?”

“Yes, Papa.” He raised his voice a bit and looked me in the eyes from underneath his disheveled hair, and I was satisfied.

I steadied him with one hand on the middle of his back, and he held onto my arms, his smaller fingers gripping the enormous muscles of my forceps as tightly as he could. I began bouncing him very slowly on my leg, making gentle sounds of reassurance until I heard his stomach making another disagreeable growl.

“Come on, kiddo, give me another good one,” I encouraged, patting his back gently with the flat of my hand. He looked down and wet his lips, taking a little breath before letting out another loud, rumbling belch, nearly as large as the first one. I grinned proudly down at him, pleased with the strength of the sound, and Zack gave me a shy, hesitant smile.

“That’s my good boy,” I cooed to him, kissing the top of his head and pulling him into my lap once again, now allowing him to tuck his face into my chest as he had wanted to before. When he shifted, he let out several soft little babyish burps, and I laughed. “I’m so proud of you, Zack. Are you feeling better now?”

“Actually,” he said quietly, pausing to let out one more soft little belch before continuing; “I’m getting pretty hungry, Papa… can we go down to breakfast now?”


End file.
